Route 666

 

This road,

halfway to nowhere,

no service station to stop and prepare.

Just asphalt, hot and black.

Lined with skulls, no turning back.

The highway to hell..

 

Highway? More like a low road.

Down past the witches casting spells,

through the graveyard of old bones.

Old roads continue in circles,

repetitious time, replaying moments of old.

Lined with shit - not paved in gold.

 

Down the old dirt track,

towards the disused old wooden shack.

A place so hard to ignore,

six, six, six hangs on the door.

The number of the beast.

Down in the pits - on our hopes he feasts.

 

The dark gravel trail to hell's gate,

where the dead flail

and the air tastes of hate.

Where the rancid stench of burning flesh.

takes what is left of your breath.

Over it all the beast prevails.

His lair, his domain,

his palace of torture and pain.

The walls lined with confessions of murderous rage.

 

 

 Thanks for reading,

Please take a look at my latest book on Amazon

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B098GQSK46

And follow me on Facebook

www.facebook.com/wordsandfluff

Peace, Love and Poetry

Kyle

Witches Brew

 

Haggard, dishevelled, bedevilled they stand,

round cauldron, eye of newt in hand.

Old warped bones, the innocent moans

from victims of these three crones.

 

With a flick of weathered wrist,

into the bubbling mix, a twist

of virgins innocent blood,

'Hmm this will make the broth taste good'

The witches lick their wicked lips.

Into the pot they throw some low wage slips,

'Let poverty rip throughout the land'

 

As they dance and sing,

eyes glinting in the moon,

into the pot they fling,

old dreams forgotten too soon.

The three laugh menacingly as out of her hat

the head witch pulls out a plagued rat,

'Some disease to keep them on their knees

Just what these people need'

 

The black cat watches intently,

as ever so gently,

witch number two,

places some grenades into this evil brew,

'Let war rage', she cackles.

The cats hackles are up

as it let's out a hiss

At the cauldron's frothy, bubbling mist.

 

It's almost sun rise,

the witches nearly done for the night.

Just a drop of diesel,

slickly topping the sickly stew,

'Pollution - let us poison the planet too'

The bubbling mixture with the hideous vapour,

needs just two more ingredients, ink and paper

'Media propaganda, journalism untruths, 

Into this mixing pot let's add some news'

 

Haggard, dishevelled, bedevilled they stand,

round cauldron, eye of newt in hand.

Their witches brew will tear the world in two,

if you let it get into you.

 

 

Thanks For Reading,

Please check out my new book on Amazon

and follow my Facebook page

www.facebook.com/wordsandfluff

 Peace, Love and Poetry,

Kyle.

Demons

 

Demons are howling,

cackling, scowling.

In creeping shadows

their yellow eyes stare,

as their growls fill the air.

A cacophony of menace

under moonlight glare.

 

Screams echo through the wind,

like banshees wailing,

phantoms singing off key,

A tune of pain, hurt and misery.

Like the creak of a swinging tyre,

hanging from an old oak tree.

Are they singing for me?

Is that an axe I see?

 

Ravenous mouths bleed

from sharpened pointy teeth

Fear holds you by the feet,

Like hands from the grave beneath.

The nightmare too real to be a dream

Too painful to be my imagination.

But if it was real I could

bleat out more than a whimpered scream

I'd be free from these fearful palpitations.

 

The dead could arise,

zombie-like,

take to the streets.

Sleepy houses

hide the real beasts,

they sleep through the night,

dreaming of power and might.

They don't hide in fear at the bumps and knocks

or at the hands of the ticking clock.

 

 

Thanks For Reading,

Please check out my new book on Amazon

and follow me on facebook for more.

Peace, Love and Poetry.

Kyle.

Headfirst into the storm

 

Kyle Coare - Headfirst into the storm

Feel the cold chill of fear,
the icy sting of pain
as we run headfirst into the rain
through a year that never was,
2020 its given name.
Embark on an emotional joyride,
let the weather guide
ducking and diving for cover
as the driving rains fall
we search for calm
trying to find the sunshine
after the storm
Listen to the sky growling
as Leicester born Poet and Author
Kyle Coare takes us on a journey
through howling winds,
as we walk...

HEADFIRST INTO THE STORM
 

 

Paperback and Kindle
Available now: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B098GQSK46